


Take the next left up ahead, you'll find yourself in Stepney

by Avidfangirlforlife



Category: Holby City
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-15
Updated: 2017-01-30
Packaged: 2018-09-17 13:15:54
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,909
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9326447
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Avidfangirlforlife/pseuds/Avidfangirlforlife
Summary: An Au in which Serena has most definitely been to Stepney.





	1. Chapter 1

Serena isn't quite sure how she had come to find herself in this position. It's a strange position to find herself in, at her time of life. She's twenty four, for cripes sake, which is far too be old to be acting like a teenager, especially if you ask her. Drinking far too much at a house party, so much so that the room spins around her, in Stepney of all places.

She knows it's silly. It's a silly thing for her to be doing. She knows that if Mother could see what she was doing, she would be in for the scolding of her life. Despite the fact that she is, indeed, now an adult. Because it is neither ladylike nor dignified to act in such a way, Serena. It isn't becoming of a young lady, especially not one fighting to establish and distinguish them self in the medical profession. She can almost hear her mother reminding her of how much harder the fight is, all because she is a woman.

So God knows why she's drinking in a strangers' house at one in the morning on a Wednesday. Especially when she has work in the morning. God knows why she'd agreed to go to a house party in Stepney. God knows why she had stayed all this time, because she certainly isn't enjoying herself in the way that she should be. God knows why she'd stayed so long, when politeness dictated that she could have left hours ago. 

Despite the late hour, and the fact that she is sure most of the people in the crowd have jobs to go to in the morning, she is still surrounded hubbub of people. Almost out of nowhere, she begins to find the crowd too rowdy, too overwhelming. So she slips out onto the patio, through the French doors in the kitchen. She's not a snob, she's really not, but this house isn't very nice. She had to admit to liking the French doors though, thinks absently that they must let in a lot of light. She thinks they make a very nice touch.

Still, dizzy with the suffocating feeling of the crowd pressing in around her, mixed with the alcohol coursing through her system, she turns her back on the light shining from the kitchen window. Half formed thoughts about the air helping to settle her raving mind flee when she finds herself faced with the back of a woman. Serena notes that she is much taller than herself, possibly by several inches. Hard to tell, what with her being hunched over the railing separating them from the grass.

Serena can't help but think, as she takes the woman in, that she looks like just maybe, she might be hiding from something too. From the crowds perhaps, as she is herself, or from something else. Before she turns away, to go and hide away somewhere else, she finds her eyes lingering on the other woman's hair. She has rather unruly blonde locks. Tousled in a way that seems almost effortless, curly and unkempt, but thick and rather lovely.

After duly noting this observation she turns to go, to leave this stranger with lovely hair in solitude. She must make a noise, and not realise it though, because with a start, the it her woman turns to face her. And Serena finds herself struck by the other woman's eyes. Expressive and brown and deep enough to fall into, perhaps. It might just be the alcohol talking, that wouldn't surprise her in the least, but she thinks that they may be the most expressive eyes she has ever seen. The woman has only been looking at her for a moment (though it feels like a very long moment), but her eyes are so open and honest and dark.

Her gaze lingers, Serena can feel it, curious and questioning. She's almost certain that isn't just the alcohol. Finally, after a very long moment, the woman looks away, back across the railing toward the grass. She gestures for Serena to join her, indicating that she is willing to share her hiding place. She moves over to her side, and when the woman glances sideways, they share a smile.

And so, Serena finds herself in a rather odd situation. She spends the rest of the early hours of the morning on a patio in Stepney, laughing and talking and joking with a strange woman she doesn't even know the name of. Leaning against the railing of some strangers garden in Stepney, she has the best night she can remember having in a very long while. And she feels guilty for it, because she's certain it's in the company and not in the alcohol. And she's never felt this at ease, this alive, when she's with Edward.

Even through the haze of alcohol in her slowly sobering system, she knows that what began as a peculiarity has morphed itself into a situation, with a capital 's'. Because this woman, whose name she doesn't even know, has made her laugh more in the past hour than she thinks she's done in a lifetime. Made her smile so much that her cheeks her. Made her stomach feel fluttery and strange and her palms go clammy.

Still, she supposes that it doesn't matter all that much, because she's likely never going to see her again. In the next few hours, the two of them will part ways. Cordially, wishing each other the best. She likes to think that both of them will look back in the evening with fondness, remembering a stranger who vastly improved an altogether too easily forgotten evening. So, if she ignores the fact that the gap between them has become nominally smaller and smaller over the passing hours, she pretends not to notice. Even as their shoulders are brushing, and the sounds from inside are dying down, she ignores it. Because really, what harm does it do?

If it walks the line between flirtation and friendly, well that's a line she's very familiar with. If it borders more on the flirtation side, well she can tell herself that it's all very casual. And if her shoulder burns from where it brushes against the blonde strangers, well it's just a very warm morning, isn't it? 

Eventually, the sky begins to lighten, and Serena feels far more sober than she has all night. Which is probably a good thing, given she has work in a mere matter of hours. The sky is beginning to turn grey, and inside the house is silence. They should probably take that as their cue to leave, but both of them seem reluctant to move. Serena knows that it's not just her.

Still, something has to give. And an evening of stolen laughter with a complete and utter stranger can't last forever. So somehow, they end up facing one another, both reluctant to start the process of saying goodbye. Serena blatantly ignores the voice in her head that whispers it shouldn't possibly be this hard to say goodbye to a complete stranger. 

She's not quite sure how it happens, but the other woman's head is suddenly much closer to hers. And for some reason she's standing on her tiptoes, and their lips are almost touching. Serena's eyes are fluttering shut, and she is certain she is about to kiss a woman for the first time. Excitement bubbles up inside her, and she almost grins at the thought of it being the woman in front of her. Instead, lips graze her cheek and breath ghosts across her face and a hand squeezes hers. Then the presence of another person is gone.

When she opens her eyes, she is alone on the patio in a random back garden in Stepney. The other woman is nowhere to be seen, and if her cheek wasn't still tingling, she'd be certain she'd imagined the whole thing. Alcohol could do that to a person. Bring on hallucinations and imaginings and such is the like.

When she leaves through the side gate, left open for stragglers, she finds a taxi waiting for her. It takes her home, and she manages to stumble to bed, even though the sun is on its way up. It's funny, really, that she finds herself dreaming of brown eyes shining in the half light from a kitchen window every night for the next week. It's funny how it becomes a recurring dream over the years that follow. It's very funny, Serena thinks, that she dreams of brown eyes instead of blue on her wedding night. It's just one of those things though, she supposes.


	2. Chapter 2

When Serena next finds herself in Stepney, to say it had been a while would be pushing it. She's thirty two now, and a mother. To a brand new, beautiful baby girl. Her beautiful baby girl, only six months old and a marvel already. Serena swears that she could spend all day every day staring at her, watching her coo and smile and sleep. It's funny, she thinks, that until Ellie had been born, she hadn't realised anything had been missing from her life.

Now though, she'd quite happily spend her days and nights watching over her precious little bundle. The life that she had created, carried and nurtured for nine whole moths. Albeit with a little help from Edward. He had provided the sperm at the very least. She had made her and carried her and now she would do anything to protect her. To most her approach to motherhood seemed a little irrational, but she wants to spend every minute of every day with her baby.

And yet, here she was. At a house party in Stepney, abandoned by the friends whom had insisted she come along. Alone and unhappy and missing her baby. A small part of her knowing that she should be missing her husband almost as much, but not really missing him at all. He always seemed to be accompanied by the smell of alcohol. In fact he often came home hours later than promised and stinking like a pub. Stale beer and cheap perfume. 

Cheap perfume that she is almost convinced belongs to another woman, one he's been seeing behind her back. Mother had warned her, after the first time she had met him, that he seemed the type to cheat through and through. Smarmy, she had said, a liar. At the time, she had so naively ignored what mother had said, and now she regretted it immensely.

She'd never known it was possible to feel so alone in a marriage. Trapped, without any feasible reason to want to escape. She knows she has no proof, nothing more tangible than a gut feeling to prove what she is sure is happening. She doesn't quite understand how he could bring himself to cheat, to lie to her face, when they are just starting to build a perfect little family together.

Over the past months, she had found herself dreaming of the perfect family. Nuclear and happy and idyllic, complete with the house in the countryside and a garden for Ellie and maybe another child or two. She knows that it'll never happen, knows that marrying Edward was a mistake that she'll regret bitterly in times still to come, but she can dream. Dream of the story book ending she's always wanted and never had quite within her reach.

Still, she'd dragged herself away for the chance to forget, even if only for a moment. Edward had been placed on baby duty for the night, with the strictest instructions that he was not to touch even a drop of alcohol, and she'd taken herself away. Victoria had issued an invitation and so here she was, well on her way to drunk, already passing tipsy, and almost certain that she had been here before. She can't quite put her finger on it, so she drinks to forget. She makes small talk and forces laughs past her aching cheeks (making oneself smile aches after a while) and she tries to forget about cheating husbands and countless sleepless nights and the niggling unhappiness that seems to have settled like something solid within her.

Somehow, and lord knows how, she manages to distract herself quite thoroughly. That is, until, a person she only vaguely recognises through the haze of alcohol decides to ask about her husband. Then, of course, she begins to feel trapped once again. Suffocating in the unhappiness. And the best part of it is, she could escape rather easily, if only she could bring herself to. Through the fog that seems to descend and settle upon her, she is vaguely aware of snapping at the poor woman. Not that she cares all that much, not really. There is just a brief pang of guilt at the surprised look on the woman's face, but then Serena turns to make her escape through the crowd, and the thought is pushed aside.

She finds herself in a kitchen, if it can really be called that. It must be nice during the day though, with the sunshine coming through the French doors that make up the whole back wall. Serena finds herself on a patio, and it suddenly hits her why this place has felt so familiar all night. This is the site of the near kiss, from all those years before. Her eyes seek out the spot, and the figure there is hunched over in a ghost of the position from before. The hair on the other woman is still the same. Blonde, unruly, and very untamed. She looks like she's trying to hide from the world, and she's doing a pretty damned good job of it.

Almost before she can stop herself, she finds herself approaching, far more confident than she had been eight years ago. Serena watches the woman tense, every muscle tightening and locking into position, a mirror image of much younger version of herself. Her head turns in the direction of Serena's foot falls, barely audible above the noise of the crush inside the house. In the half light from the kitchen window, she sees a flash of brown and that is all she needs to be certain of this woman's identity (as long as she ignores the fact that she isn't aware of the other woman's name). 

There isn't a flash of recognition in the other woman's eyes, there is no flutter of acknowledgement. Her face stays almost the same as she studies Serena, until a half smile draws the left corner of her mouth up. With an angling of her head she indicates that Serena is free to join her, which she most definitely does. The two of them begin to talk, and all of a sudden time begins to fly again. It mirrors the night from eight years ago almost perfectly, except now the two of them are most definitely wearing wedding bands upon their fingers.

They talk and laugh and smile until the party begins to die out behind them and the world quietens. They talk beyond that as well, the mood light, both of them beginning to sober up. Once the noise from the party has died down completely, it becomes so quiet that Serena can hear the hum of crickets in the grass. The only sound surrounding the pair of them is the crescendo of their conversation. The lights have gone off behind them, and the sky is grey with predawn. Serena can feel that they both know this evening can't stretch on forever, but she'll be damned if she doesn't try to make it.

She can't remember the last time another person had made her feel this alive, just through an evening of wonderful conversation. And yet she still doesn't know the blonde woman's name. Doesn't even have the foggiest idea. Maybe that is for the best, she supposes, because surely everything that is happening is madness. Just about complete and utter madness. Conversation shouldn't make her want to stay in this moment forever. It shouldn't drive away the ache in her gut and the unhappiness settled upon her shoulders. It certainly shouldn't, but it does.

Their eyes meet during a natural lull in the conversation and cliche as it might be, Serena could swear that the whole world seems to pause. If she didn't know that it wasn't possible, she could almost swear that the planet had stopped spinning. Which is ridiculous, because this woman is a stranger. The blonde woman says something about knowing her from somewhere, and she nods vaguely, not really knowing what she's agreeing to.

Somehow, and she senses it happening, their heads seem to be drawing closer together in a way that sets her heart racing. It pounds beneath her rib cage in a way she swear sit never has before. Her breath hitches and trembles its way from between her slightly parted lips as their faces get closer together. Then, their lips are meeting, softly. Barely even touching. Just brushing, just touching, yet she still finds that her world is being set alight. Her hands itch with the need to reach out, to grasp at the body in front of her.

Lips continue to meet, questing and questioning but more sure of this by the second. A tongue reaches out to trace her upper lip, and she is filled with a need to be closer, to be nearer. So she reaches out for the body in front of her, drawing her in and pressing them flush to one another. So that they meet, chest to chest and hip to hip. Serena can't help but be shocked at how soft this woman in her arms is, wasn't actually aware such a thing was possible. Her hands reach out, almost as if of their own accord, one tangling itself in unruly golden locks, the other finding the small of the other woman's back.

She finds herself pressed to the railing, sandwiched between the metal and the blonde woman's body. One of the woman's hands rests at her hips, the other rests at the nape of her neck, almost holding them together. It is almost as if she never wants this kiss to end. She kisses Serena like she physically needs to, not just wants to. She kisses her in a way that tells Serena she didn't know she needed to do it until she had already started. But now that she has, she almost doesn't know how to stop. She kisses her in a way that makes Serena's knees feel weak and shaky. One of them moans quietly into the kiss, and she doesn't know who it it, but it spurs her on all the more. She kisses the blonde woman harder and for longer and with just a hint of desperation.

It's not until Serena's tongue seeks entrance into the other woman's mouth, and finds it granted, that what she is doing hits her. She's a married woman, kissing another person. She can feel her wedding band, and she isn't entirely sure she is imagining the burning of it on her finger. She's almost surprised that this woman can't feel it searing against her skin. 

It doesn't matter that Edward is cheating, because she refuses to stoop to his level. He can be the one to cheat, to hollow out the sanctity of their marriage. She refuses to do the same. Even if kissing this woman feels right and warm and exciting. Even if she feels closer to her, a woman she doesn't yet know the name of, than she does to her husband of three years.

So she draws back, trembling from head to toe and warm all over, panting for breath. She's almost certain that she has lipstick smeared across the entire bottom half of her face. Her eyes hold the other woman's and she is certain she's never seen eyes half so expressive before. They're full of longing and realisation and Serena is sure that her own are reflecting the exact same thing.

Edward, in all of their ten year relationship, had never once managed to make her feel like this. Alight all over, from head to toe, even through the guilt. Still, at home she has a husband and baby waiting for her, expecting her home at some point before dawn. A husband and little Ellie, one whom she is starting to despise and one she will love until her dying day. She has a family to go home to, a family she has to try and make work.

So she reaches out and squeezes the other woman's hand with trembling fingers. She squeezes so tightly that it makes them both wince. Then she meets those dark eyes once more through the slowly lightening dark, and she turns to leave. Those eyes stay with her, even after she has turned to go, and she doesn't think she'll ever be able to forget them.

She leaves the little house in Stepney, round the side gate just like the time before, to go back to her husband and her beautiful baby girl. She has a duty to try and make her family work, for Ellie's sake, even if she is wildly unhappy. She won't be the one to pry apart their marriage, not when she suspects Edward will do a good enough job of that for the both of them. She wonders ideally whether it will be the drinking or the cheating or the lying that will finally break them apart.

Still, as she makes her way home she is awash with guilt. Even though it was only a kiss in the dark with a stranger, she knows she will never forget it. She knows that she will probably spend the rest of her life looking for those eyes. Knows she will compare every kiss she receives from now on to the one from this night, and she knows that none other will compare. It scares her, but there it is. No other kiss could even compare to the kiss of the strange blonde woman from Stepney.


	3. Chapter 3

When Serena meets Berenice Wolfe, she is most definitely not in Stepney. It's been almost seventeen years, pretty much to the day. And this time she gets to learn the blonde woman's name. Of course, everything is different this time around. She's divorced (has been for quite some time) and single and very sober.

She recognises the other woman instantly, fag hanging out of the corner of her mouth and blonde hair flying all over the place. She's just as beautiful as she was all those years ago, but Serena has no idea how she is here. How the bloody hell has such a thing come to pass? It could be fate, she supposes, destiny or such is the like.

She tries to ignore the way her heart skips a beat, the way her palms itch and her lips tingle with the memory of something that happened very long ago. There's no flash of recognition on the other woman's face. No hint of a past familiarity. She doesn't know who Serena is, and that is fair enough. Two kisses shared over the span of a decade, nearly twenty years previously isn't exactly monumental for most.

And the fact that it still is for her proves that she's becoming a silly old woman. Far too much of a romantic for her liking. Still, the easy conversation and witty banter is still between them, even after all this time. The two of them form an easy camaraderie, a close friendship. They bond over crappy exes and coming out at a late age. 

The days blur into weeks and slowly the months begin to go by. Their friendship becomes deeper than anything Serena has ever felt before. It's strange, she thinks, that a person can become such an integral part of her life. At such a late stage, when she thinks she knows who she is. To suddenly find someone who makes her feel so complete, when she didn't even know a part of her was missing, is astounding.

Their friendship is a first for Serena, unique in its formation and structure. There is very much a base level of attraction between them, somewhere in the foundation of their friendship. They flirt back and forth as if there is no tomorrow, with some familiarity on Serena's part. Bernie doesn't seem to remember her, which shouldn't leave her quite so disappointed, but it really does.

So what if Bernie doesn't remember a kiss from nearly two decades ago? They were both drunk, and although it had been eye opening and revolutionary for Serena, that doesn't mean it necessarily was for Bernie. Such a thing is fair enough. Bernie may be gay, and Serena's first kiss with a woman, but that doesn't mean Serena was the same thing for her.

There have been women since she left her husband, Bernie confesses to her one night. An almost endless stream, none lasting for longer than the average fling. None have ever seemed to fit, not in the way they were supposed to. The attraction had only ever been skin deep, and once she'd scratched away the surface none of them had interested her. Serena had watched Bernie's face, and had seen the guilt there, but hadn't really questioned it.

Serena, in turn, tells her about her spectacularly awful attempts at romance while raising a wild teenage girl. It's been more than seven years since her and Edward had divorced, and yet she's never quite been able to find anything that could stick. Never quite found anything that she wanted to make a go at.

There had been Robbie (Robbie the Bobbie, as Ellie had named him), and Richard (Dick Whittington, because her girl was creative and he was in local politics) and Cecelia (SeeMe because she'd been in the theatre). None of them had lasted very long, none of them had even been that serious. They'd just about all made it to the meeting Ellie stage, and then all had scarpered pretty soon after.

It's tragic, she knows. She has Bernie giggling into her wine glass by the end of Robbie's tale. She's practically honking by the time she gets around to Cecelia (she'd been rather a midlife crisis). That is, until she realises that Serena had been with a woman, and then she'd choked on her wine. Serena looks at her with steady eyes, and just a hint of a smirk. For a moment, she walks on the far side of the line between banter and flirtation. Dangerous territory, she knows, but one she's well equipped to walk. And then Bernie stops spluttering but looks away, unable to hold her eyes.

On another evening, when far too much wine has been consumed in Serena's living room, they end up talking about when they first knew that they were attracted to people of the same sex. Bernie starts talking, and Serena wonders exactly what she is going to say. She finds herself waiting with bated breath, both dreading and anticipating the words that will next leave her mouth.

Then Bernie says the word Stepney and although Serena's breath catches in her throat, she listens with the utmost attention and tries to act oblivious. She must succeed, at least until a certain extent. Because Bernie doesn't stop, doesn't pause, to ask her what on earth is the matter. From the way Bernie carries on, Serena is certain that she hasn't connected the event with herself.

Bernie talks of two separate occasions, of a brunette she had met at a rather crappy house party whilst trying to hide away from Marcus. She describes the brunette in her story as short (Serena has to stop herself from interjecting that every poor bloody woman on the planet seems short compared to Berenice Bloody Wolfe, thank you very much), with the most incredible smile. She goes on to say that the stranger from Stepney is very important to her, because she had helped her to figure out exactly who she is.

And it's a rather lovely thought for Serena, the idea that somehow and somewhen, she had helped Bernie to figure out who she was. At the same time, Bernie's use of the word stranger serves to drive the key point home. She has no idea who Serena is, or at least who she used to be. Bernie doesn't remember her, not in the way Serena has remembered her for all of these years.

The two of them become even closer as the months fly by. Time seems to blur when they are together, hours collapsing in on themselves so that they pass in what seems like mere moments. The two of them talk for hours and hours most evenings, either at Albie's or Serena's. Bernie talks about Stepney an awful lot, Serena thinks, perhaps because it just means so much to her.

As their friendship grows deeper, so does their attraction to one another. Or so it seems. Most days, they flirt like there is no tomorrow. It's continuous and never ending and the most wonderful kind of torture. All boundaries between the two of them seem to lay somewhere firmly in the past. Although she's not quite sure of when their attraction became quite so obvious, she thinks it becomes harder and harder each second for the pair of them to resist. 

Still, resist it she does. Because Bernie doesn't remember her, but she remembers Bernie. And while she doesn't hold it against her, not in the slightest, she wishes she did remember. So she doesn't try to act on their attraction, she doesn't even openly acknowledge that it exists. She ignores their undeniable sexual chemistry, even when it becomes blatantly obvious within the confines of theatre. She ignores it all, and so does Bernie, because neither of them seems to want to mess with the friendship they have built.

She resists the pull between them, ignores the sparks that seem to fly whenever they are in the same room. One day though, things between them change. It's at the tail end of a double shift (it had dragged especially as it was Bernie's day off) when Bernie bursts into their shared office, all smiles and a tonne of energy. That alone is almost enough to make her cross, because no one should have that much energy when she is this bone tired.

Bernie perches herself on the edge of Serena's very tidy work desk, bouncing up and down on the balls of her feel, and tells her that she has found the brunette from Stepney. For a moment Serena perks up, tiredness draining away and hope welling in her chest, before Bernie begins to rattle in about some tart or another.  
She tries not to visibly deflate, not that she thinks Bernie would notice, not in the mood she's in. She's talking a mile a minute, so very bloody excited, and it would be catching if she hadn't just dashed all of Serena's carefully hidden hopes against the rocks. She tries very hard to listen to Bernie's excited rambling, she really does. Every now and then she forces herself to tune in, she catches phrases like "most wonderful woman on the planet" and "so incredibly bloody smart" and "beyond infuriating". That's all she manages to catch.

In fact, Serena is paying so little attention that she doesn't notice that they are walking to Bernie's car. Doesn't notice until she is already seated, bag in the footwell and engine humming around them. Her heart feels rather delicate, and she feels ten times more drained then she did twenty minutes ago. Still, she hums appreciation whenever she thinks it is appropriate. Not that she's actually listening. 

Serena focuses all of her attention on one spot of the window, staring at it so fiercely that it's a wonder she doesn't wear it through. She stares hard, trying to block out the world, just for five minutes. She'll be fine after a bottle of Shiraz, a weekend of crappy tv and far too much therapeutic cleaning. After that, she'll be able to forget about her disappointment. She'll go back to being the best friend a woman could ask for and she'll ask all the right questions about Bernie's latest conquest. The dirty tart.

It's not until she glances at the clock that she realises they've been in the car far too long for a simple drive back to her house. In fact, when she takes in their surroundings, she realises that they are much closer to London than they are to Holby. Which is worrying, because how could she possibly be paying so little attention? Bernie's even gone quiet, and she just hadn't realised.

She doesn't question where they are going, she just lets Bernie drive in quiet. After a while, it occurs to her that she rather recognises where they are. Vaguely, almost as if from somewhere only half remembered. A dream perhaps. Serena finds herself trying to puzzle out where they are, through the half darkness of twilight and an unfocused mind.

It's when Bernie pulls up to the kerb that it hits her and she recognises her surroundings completely. They're in Stepney. Only a couple of roads down from the park. She turns bodily towards Bernie, takes in the enormous smile on her face, the way her eyes are shining. Bernie asks her if she knows where they are, her voice giddy with barely contained happiness.

Serena looks at her for a minute, and doesn't answer. Simply looks at her for the longest of all moments, takes in all the emotions she can see playing across those expressive brown eyes (for once she isn't hindered by that bloody fringe of hers), and sees her in a slightly different light.

Something clicks, and although she isn't sure what it is, she knows it is the right thing. So she leans forward and kisses Bernie, full on the mouth, in a far less than chaste way. If she was younger and less dignified and the gear shaft wasn't in her way, she would probably climb across the seats to settle in Bernie's lap. Because the way that Bernie whimpers against her mouth when she kisses her is simply delicious. It's almost sounds like relief, after waiting for this moment for so long.

She kisses her and curses herself all at once, for depriving them both of this for so long. She kisses her for the longest of moments, getting carried away in the emotion. When Bernie's tongue tries to seek entrance into her mouth, she pulls away, mindful of the street around them. With a last lingering kiss, she pulls away fully, glancing around as she does so.

Although all of the streets look the same, she can't help but chuckle. When a questioning glance is thrown her way, she reaches for the other woman's hand. Thumb sweeping across the back of the blonde's hand, she tells her. She's on the wrong road, if only just. In order to be true to the events of seventeen years before, she needs to take the next possible left. Serena tells her as much, and this time Bernie chuckles with her, even as she starts the car. She takes the next left, and Serena's hand rests on top of hers for the last leg of the journey.


End file.
